


Brush Off the Dirt

by corgasbord



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Body Dysphoria, Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Trans Character, shuuichi has shitty parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgasbord/pseuds/corgasbord
Summary: Normally, Shuuichi doesn't like having his hair messed with because it dredges up unpleasant memories. With time, however, he makes Kaito the exception.





	Brush Off the Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> i've been in a bit of a slump lately, and have mostly been filling little requests on tumblr rather than putting anything on ao3. i decided to post one of them here as well because i liked the prompt! here's the [original ask](http://corgiboard.tumblr.com/post/164425763915/saimota-prompt-kaito-likes-playing-with-shuuichis).

When Kaito first teases his fingers through Shuuichi’s hair with slow, deliberate motions, Shuuichi nearly flinches away on instinct. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kaito replies, drawing a hand over Shuuichi’s scalp in an attempt to smooth his cowlick down. It doesn’t work, of course, and it springs back into place seconds later, causing an amused grin to break out on Kaito’s face. “Man, that thing just won’t stay down, will it?”

Shuuichi shakes his head. “I don’t know why, but it’s always been like that. It used to really frustrate my mom.”

“Why?” Kaito scoffs. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Hell, I think it’s kinda cute.”

“I guess she thought it was… unsightly, or something like that,” Shuuichi says, shrugging. “She always was rather nitpicky, though. She’d try all kinds of things to get it to stay down. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail or a braid usually worked best…” He trails off then, eyes going out of focus as unpleasant memories seep into his mindspace.

His hair was so pretty, so soft. He knew because she would tell him that as she ran her fingers through it, teaching him how to put it up, how to make it look just right. If he took good care of it, she’d say, he would be the envy of all the other girls his age.

“She sounds like one hell of a nag,” Kaito remarks, oblivious to Shuuichi’s discomfort.

“Yeah,” Shuuichi murmurs, “I guess you could say that.”

His mother is miles away from him now, but he still feels her fingers tickle his scalp in her repeated attempts to tame his hair, to shape it (and by extension, to shape him) in the image of a prim little girl.

With stiff movements, he pulls away from Kaito and lifts himself up off of the couch. “It’s getting late,” he says, not looking at the other boy. “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

He takes a shower, and he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs his hair until the skin on his head feels raw and he’s convinced all traces of his mother’s presence there are gone.

\------

When it happens again, the ends of Shuuichi’s hair have already grown long enough to split and tickle the back of his neck. Kaito notes this as he idly twists the strands between his fingers, causing nervous goosebumps to spread down to Shuuichi’s nape. “Your hair’s getting a little long. You gonna get it cut soon?”

“I suppose I should… if I let it grow out too long, it starts to look uneven,” Shuuichi muses. “I'll have to remember to take care of it later.”

Kaito tilts his head. “You cut your hair yourself, Shuuichi?”

Shuuichi nods. “Mhm. I had to learn how to handle it myself for a while, since no one else would do it for me.”

“Oh,” Kaito says. Then something like realization sparks in his eyes, and he repeats, “ _Oh_ .”

Shuuichi can only affirm Kaito’s assumption with another nod. He decides to omit how his parents yelled at him the first time he cut his hair by himself, and sought psychiatric help when he finally tried to make them understand why he absolutely  _ needed _ it to be shorter than they would allow.

“My uncle does it for me sometimes, too,” Shuuichi says, trying to brush off his unease as though it were no more than dust on his sleeve. “I think he does a better job of it than I do, but… he's usually busy, so I don't like to trouble him.”

“I see.” Kaito pauses, still aimlessly curling the ends of Shuuichi’s hair between his fingers. “Well, I think you do a pretty damn good job of it as is.”

“Yeah?” The corners of Shuuichi’s mouth twitch up, just a little. “You don’t have to say stuff like that, but… thanks.”

Kaito scoffs. “I’m not saying it just to say it. I mean it- it really suits you. Makes your features look more, like… defined. More manly.”

Shuuichi meets Kaito’s gaze, eyes wide and serious. “You really think so…?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” Kaito moves his hand up to the top of Shuuichi’s head to ruffle his hair playfully. “I still think it’d look even cooler if you let me style it with gel, though.”

“I’d rather not,” Shuuichi deadpans, then shifts his eyes down to his lap. “But… thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” Kaito says, and as his fingers resume their movement through Shuuichi’s hair, Shuuichi decides to ignore the prickling feeling on the back of his neck for now because being close to Kaito is enough of a reminder that he’s safe.

\------

Shuuichi finds Kaito’s number in his phone and dials it with his hands trembling faintly. Normally he would send a text, but at the moment he doesn't trust his fingers to remain steady enough to type anything coherent.

Kaito's voice filters through the other line within moments. “Hey, dude! What're you doing up so late?”

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Shuuichi blurts before he can even think to utter a greeting. “I didn't mean to wake you up or anything, it's just- I-”

“Whoa, slow down,” Kaito says, concern filling his tone. “You didn't wake me up or anything, it's fine. Something the matter?”

“I- it’s-” Shuuichi stumbles over his words a couple of times before taking a deep breath through his nose. “Can you come over? I just… please.”

There’s no hesitation before Kaito says, “Gimme fifteen minutes,” and hangs up.

It’s all that Shuuichi can do in the meantime to stave off the feeling weighing down his chest, weaving between his ribs like roots and gripping his lungs until he feels too lightheaded to breathe. This pervasive anxiety, severe enough to send him veering back from the precipice of sleep, is a frequent occurrence, one that he’s grown to expect. That doesn’t make it any less painful when it happens, though.

He’s noticed that it gets easier to deal with when Kaito is around. Kaito is always there for him, always lifting the weight from his chest, always striving to make him happy and at ease.

_ It’s a wonder he isn’t sick of you yet. _

He has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat at that and try to ignore the thought.

Kaito arrives a couple minutes earlier than promised, but in Shuuichi’s opinion, it’s not a moment too soon. Once inside, he regards Shuuichi with an uncharacteristically stoic look for a few moments, trying to read him through the darkness, before stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He’s warm and solid and it’s all Shuuichi can do not to simply melt into it.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Kaito asks softly, and all Shuuichi can do is shake his head because he doesn’t know, really, or at the very least he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

Kaito pulls back, looking him over again carefully. “Bad night, huh?” he asks. When Shuuichi doesn’t respond, he continues, “Do you need to get your blood pumpin’?”

Shuuichi shakes his head again; even if he’s too antsy to sleep, he’s too tired to exercise.

“... You just wanna lay down, then?”

Shuuichi nods, and Kaito sighs and pats him between the shoulder blades. “All right. I can do that.”

So they do. They curl up together in Shuuichi’s bed and Kaito pulls him closer and for the first time that night, Shuuichi’s able to breathe easier, if only a little bit. He registers the spice of the soap Kaito uses and the steady thrum of his heartbeat, much slower and calmer than Shuuichi’s own, and then careful fingers thread through his hair and for once Shuuichi doesn’t get the urge to jerk away. He feels Kaito’s hand on his head and not his mother’s, not his father’s, not anyone else’s. Just Kaito, only Kaito.

He lets his eyes fall shut and drifts off into the best sleep he’s had all week.

\------

Shuuichi turns his head to peer up at Kaito from his spot on his lap through half-lidded eyes. “Hey.”

Kaito looks down at Shuuichi with his eyebrows raised, several strands of dark hair twisted around his finger. “Hey.”

“Why do you do that?” Shuuichi asks.

“Do what?”

“Play with my hair all the time. It seems like you’ve always got your hands in it whenever we sit or lie together.”

“Oh.” Kaito withdraws his hand, releasing the locks of Shuuichi’s hair he was messing with. “‘Dunno. Half the time I don’t even notice I’m doing it.” He shrugs, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It… it kinda helps calm me down, I guess. Keeps me occupied when I have nothing to focus on, so I don’t get all antsy.”

Shuuichi hums. “I see.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

_ Not anymore _ , he thinks, but what he says aloud is “It’s fine. I… I kind of enjoy it, actually.”

Kaito raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Shuuichi nods, turning his face away again in an attempt to hide the heat rising to his cheeks. “Yeah. I guess it, uh… it kind of calms me down, too.”

“Oh,” Kaito says again, blinking in what appears to be surprise. “Huh… guess I’ll keep doing it, then.”

His fingers find their place back in Shuuichi’s hair, combing through it in short, soothing motions, and Shuuichi feels goosebumps rise on his neck - not from anxiety this time, but from something akin to euphoria.

**Author's Note:**

> a side note for you all to consider: kaito momota has adhd, y/y


End file.
